Villainous
by Reading Again
Summary: What if Edward wasn't the hero? What if he was the bad guy? Superhero Universe EdwardxBella, mild JacobxBella. Rated T for mild swearing and romance.
1. Damsel in Distress

**A/N: So I'm bored, and despite my absent muse, I think I'm going to go crazy if I just have to keep waiting for people to update. Might as well try out the story I've been thinking about for a while, no?**

**Just about all of the pairings in the Twilight series will be here, except those in Breaking Dawn (or characters that I don't get around to adding). This is also very clearly AU, but I can't say it's all human, since it's set in a superhero/supervillain universe.**

**Anyhow, I might shop around for a beta, so if anyone likes action stories and wouldn't mind becoming my partner-in-crime, contact me, okay?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Twilight series, but since this is fanfiction, I suppose you knew that, no? Because why would Stephenie Meyer go around writing fanfiction for herself?**

I felt kind of dead.

There's a difference, by the way, between "mostly", "kind of", and "all" dead. Mostly was probably my favorite, if I had to choose. I could just be out of it for a few days lying like a log in the hospital bed, allow my brain to get back in order, and then deal with my problems when I was up. All dead would be pretty obviously a problem, although I imagine it might be interesting to see what it's like. But kind of dead… kind of dead was just weird.

I made a sleepy noise, clicking my tongue dryly against the roof of my mouth as I tried to comprehend why I felt so… strange. The normal clarity of thought I had was very fuzzy at the moment. It was almost like I'd been drugged or something. And my doctors knew not to do that unless it was absolutely necessary, because I freaking hate needles.

It was at that moment that I noticed the cold floor against the side of my face.

…_Shit._

I struggled to open my eyes but couldn't, confirming my sudden beliefs. I was blindfolded. I was lying on a cold floor who-knows-where, and I was blindfolded, and – I experimented slightly with my hands, realizing then that I could only rotate them around the wrist – I was tied up, barely able to move.

"_Are you sure you want to do this, Bella? What if it's dangerous?" The voice was laced with worry, so like mine and yet so childish. I was the middle-aged teenager, old before my time, and she was my opposite, and we were the best of friends._

…I wondered vaguely if now was a good time to be hallucinating. I had so many things to figure out. But the drug, or whatever it was, that was hurting my head so much, made it easy for my mother's voice to pierce my brain.

"_Mom, I'll be fine. Really."_

_I was standing in an airport, being assaulted by my mom's last-minute worries as I prepared to leave all I had behind. I was lying, by the way. As much as lying to my mom felt like lying to myself (for she even looked almost exactly like me, with her thick hair and heart-shaped face), it was my decision to make. _

_She looked tearful, but strong in her unusual way. She must have realized, at least to a certain extent, that I was doing so much of this for her. She was moving on to a new period in her life with Phil, and I was…doing what both of us had expected I would do. Giving her room, and in the meantime, grabbing what room I could._

"_If it was up to you, I know it would be," she murmured, helping me with my suitcase as she followed behind. "But you won't be in control anymore, Bells. Think of yourself, for once."_

_I did think of myself. I thought of the fact that, besides my mom, I had never really had any friends here. I thought of how much time I spent locked up, away from the heat of the sun, unable to truly escape the screaming headlines of our weekly news. I thought of my supposedly high IQ, and I thought of how, if I let this continue on any longer, I might have lost the battle before it had even begun._

_And I couldn't bring mom along anymore. I was taking steps that were too big this time._

_I tried to smile at her, but who knew how it looked when the messages sent from my brain to my face got mutilated by my heart. It must have been pretty harsh, because she embraced me, and I closed my eyes._

_What silent promises could I make for her? That nothing would happen to me? That I would always be there as her loving daughter, no matter how far apart we were?_

_I finally settled on one that seemed much more reasonable. Mom, I promise that I won't let myself play the damsel in distress anymore._

_From now on, even if my life won't be in yours anymore, at least I'll make you proud._

Oh man, did I screw this one up.

I flinched as the flashback ended, and returned to a reality where I was basically as defenseless as a kitten. _Great job, Bella. I'm sure they're all afraid of your claws._

(My inner self can get a little snarky at times. Don't mind her, she's crazy.)

As uncomfortable as I was, however, I was luckily getting back some of my wits. My formidable wits that were supposed to help me in every situation and had most annoyingly abandoned me for this short while. In essence, the fact that I was tied up wasn't as bad as it would be for someone else. With my pathetic physical strength, it was my mind that was my greatest asset. Because it had to be.

Unfortunately, the not-being-able-to-see thing continued to be a bit of a handicap in evaluating my surroundings. All I could really go off of was suppositions. Such as, _suppose the criminals you were working against became aware of you_? and also, _suppose they knew who you were working with and what role you played with the investigation_?

And lastly, _suppose you're being held hostage as the bloody damsel in distress?_

Then what? Then my father was probably somewhere freaking out, and because of me, we were at an impasse with the very people who I was trying to stop. The best thing to do at the moment, then, was get the hell out of here.

Naturally, I couldn't really tell if I was being watched, but figuring that trying couldn't do any harm, I began to work on my bindings. I felt the harsh fibers of the rope against my skin, thankful that they weren't particularly well-tied. Then again, why would they be? These criminals were killers, not normally hostage-takers.

Quietly, I began to bend my fingers back to stick them into the knot around my wrist. I'd actually practiced this a few times, so I hoped I knew what I was doing.

When did I ever know what I was doing?... whatever.

**A/N: Yes, I know I already had a monster note at the beginning, but this one's important. The idea behind the writing of this story is that, for every chapter, I need to listen to a new song to go with it that I'm not already particularly familiar with. This chapter was "Everyday Superhero" by Smash Mouth (it's Bella's theme, what can I say?) but for later chapters I'd like suggestions. Anyone?**


	2. The Baddies

**A/N: This isn't what was originally planned for Chapter 2, but I figured I might as well cut to the villains for a bit. I'm still looking for good writing songs and a beta, but for now, let's just get to the point.**

**Brief note: I've been wanting to write a story like this since reading the Adopt-A-Villain Catchphrase forum on nanowrimo, and hence, I will occasionally be dipping into its valuable resources to sprinkle goody quotes into the story.**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, but if you didn't know that, I don't know why you're reading fanfiction for her…**

Jacob Black was the one who sent the message. Not like it was even his idea, or his responsibility, but he figured that it was his turn to pay up. That's the way their little world worked – a system of debts and promises, trust and suspicion. After making such a colossal screw up last time, it was really all that he could do.

So he recorded what he was supposed to, searched up the information that he was supposed to, and used the voice changer to make it all sound like he was the Loch Ness monster like he was supposed to. Whatever the Loch Ness monster sounded like. He imagined it sounded the same. Very freaky.

"This is a kidnapping." Just in case they didn't get the memo the first time or something. You could never be sure with heroes. Or blondes. Best to make everything abundantly clear.

Sure, even in the dark Jacob noticed the name of the victim. Sure, it caused a lump to roll up and down his throat as he swallowed a little more forcefully than necessary. But it was his turn to pay up, and this was the way it worked.

Now he was sitting with his feet kicked up on the monitor, draped across a chair in the dark. They said that looking at a computer screen in the dark can damage your eyes, but Jacob wasn't particularly worried at the moment. As usual, the air was set to a frigid temperature, particles bouncing away in dismay from his abnormally hot skin. His eyes, black at the iris like that of a cartoon character but serious, focused almost unblinkingly on the image as he waited.

Another man, his opposite in most ways except for the expression in his eyes, was leaning against the wall behind him. He might have been there for a while, or just a few minutes – he often came and went so silently that it caught even Jacob by surprise. His pale skin, unlike Jacob's, however, stood out in the dark, and the reflection against the glass in front of the computer screen gave him away.

Jacob cocked his head slightly to acknowledge the black-clad figure, meeting his brooding eyes.

"So, Edward, it's all done," he informed him.

Edward brought his hand up to bite lightly the knuckles, a gesture which he used for so many situations that it had stopped giving insight into his mood. The side of his mouth twisted up in thought.

"You sent messages to both the doctor and Chief Swan? And you're sure they're untraceable?"

"Very," Jacob chuckled, remembering the painstaking measures he had taken to ensure that much.

"That's a relief, then."

Edward had to spoil the mood by turning on the lights, but Jacob made no comment, instead allowing himself to sink further down into his chair. His eyes had flickered back to the monitor. Many times they had used this monitor to view confidential information from hidden cameras, but at the moment it was only hooked up so that they could watch their captive, who was still out cold.

Jacob had to wonder if she just didn't do well with drugs, or if Edward had somehow made a mistake and used too much chloroform. It wouldn't have been the first time that he got a little overzealous in the execution of his plans.

Edward, however, answered Jacob's thought with the semi-annoyed expression on his face as he watched the sleeping woman as well.

"What exactly is so great about this woman, I wonder? The police seem to think she's something special, obviously, which is why she's of use to us… but what good could she do?"

Edward had a tendency to murmur to himself. He was a quiet person in general – extremely intelligent, mind you, but a man of few words. The brooding air he carried about him and the bitterness in his eyes would often hoodwink people so that he could unexpectedly impale them on his sarcastic wit. People just didn't expect him to have a sense of humor, was the problem. Jacob was a bold, large, boisterous type of person, but Edward was the type of criminal who just seemed a lot more… serious.

In any case, it was only with people who spent a lot of time with him that he started voicing some of his thoughts aloud, and at that point one would come to realize that he wonders a lot about what's going on. He bloody hates taking things at face value, and when he has to, it feels like something's wrong to him.

Jacob shifted.

"Well, I imagine that she's pretty weak, yes," he agreed. "But Bella is actually pretty smart, and gutsy… she has, you know, that 'hidden strength' type thing that the general population seems to gobble up. At least, that's what I remember, anyway."

He was talking casually, but Edward glanced sharply at him.

"…so you know this girl?"

Jacob snorted, closing his eyes.

"Edward, you _do_ remember that my father's friends with the chief of police, right?"

Edward was silent for a moment, his eyes flickering from the screen to Jacob's face. An eyebrow raised, then backpedaled.

His lips quirked upward thoughtfully at one corner, and genuine curiosity crept up into his expression. "So do you have a problem with us doing this, then?"

"No, I mean, it's fine," Jacob said, fingering the gun at his side, a gesture of his similar in use to that of Edward biting his knuckles. He watched as Bella took a particularly deep breath, guessing that she was finally awake, although with the blindfold covering her eyes it was hard to tell. "Whatever gets the job done, as long as you don't plan on lowering her slowly into a pit of boiling lava or something."

"Because we have so many of those around here."

Jacob shrugged, maintaining the same perfect deadpan expression that Edward had. "Hey, you said we were ready for upgrades."  
They both grinned a little at that, the smile on Edward's face rare but natural. They remained in companionable silence for a long moment, contentedly watching their victim apparently come to a realization that she was tied up as she moved her arms against the bonds around her.

"What exactly _are_ you planning on doing with her, by the way?"

Edward's eyes lost their hint of amusement, changing back to that their normal tone of serious, on-focus glint. "What do you expect? I'm going to use her to take down the heroes by holding her as a hostage, and if she doesn't do what we want her to, I'm going to kill her."

Jacob nodded absently. "That works, I guess.

"And hey, malevolence, murder and mayhem… the only way to start the day, right?"

Edward didn't bother answering, instead seeming to grow a little bored with the conversation and the watching. After a quiet moment, he left the room, turning the lights off. He knew that Jacob preferred it at that way.

Then again, it might not have anything to do with boredom that he decided to walk out. As Jacob focused on the screen again, he realized that Bella was starting to undo the ropes holding her semi-motionless on the floor.

"Huh. That's a new trick." He grinned again as he settled in to watch her little Houdini act. There was still an unvoiced hint of unease in his stomach, but he wasn't going to make another mistake this time and act on it.

**A/N: What?! No romance yet?! What a horrible author I am DX **

**Typos, problems, annoyance at my style? Hit the green button, please! :) (well I mean it's not technically green but you get my point)**


	3. Visions and Barbie Dolls

**A/N: The flow of this chapter was hard to get right, especially since I'm using sort of my own justice system. However, you'll get to find out more about the whereabouts of the wonderful Twilight cast, and hopefully I've made it interesting enough to tide you over for the introductions. **

**Disclaimer: …is getting old already, but is still true: I am not, in fact, Stephenie Meyer and so don't own the rights to anything Twilight.**

Charles Swan was in no way, shape, or form an amateur. Not only had he held the position of Chief of Police since before the start of his (unhappy and doomed but still totally worth it) marriage, he had survived in it up until present day. In Forks City, this was no small task.

Yet in essence, he wasn't the confident, cocky type that one would expect to excel as a police officer of his status. Instead, he was a very private man of few words. The muscles of his body, while very clearly there, never built to an impressive bulge. His eyes would have fit much better in the image of a cop in a sleepy town, his slow blinking and shy mannerisms very unsuited to the city. And anyone could see that despite how scattered the broken fragments of his family were, he still cared for them as if they were Hallmark material. His care, however, showed up in subtle, quiet ways, so that no one could ever comment on it without feeling as if they were touching on personal business.

So it was with some surprise that Carlisle Cullen, entering the police station to gather the complete files of one of his more mysterious patients at the hospital (who he suspected had been dabbling in criminal affairs prior to his accident -- but who didn't nowadays?) turned and almost got tackled to the ground by an impatient Chief. Or maybe he wasn't all that surprised, after all.

"Charlie? What's wrong?" he asked, calm and concerned as only Carlisle could be. He took in Charlie's shaking form, his lips smoothing out to a half-frown.

"Just about everything," Charlie replied, his tone much too close to a snarl. "It's only been a damn hour since I found out my daughter's being held _hostage_, and they're trying to send me out to capture a bloody _thief._ As if I didn't have enough to worry about already…"

"Hostage?" Carlisle replied, a bit like a parrot. He allowed his expression to grow tight, barely controlled. Charlie and he had worked together often enough before, seeing as Carlisle worked with some of the rescue teams for victims in the more violent goings-on in the city, but Carlisle had remained aloof enough that people could rarely pry under his acting ability. Charlie, in his state of distraction, saw only what he expected to see – incredulity and horror. "My God, have they really made a move that drastic?"

Charlie shot a dark glare at the floor, not even bothering to answer, but instead opting for clenching and unclenching his fists.

Carlisle paused for a short moment, before speaking again. "This was truly the first I've heard of this. I'm so sorry – are you sure they can't send in anyone else to deal with the robbery?"

Charlie snorted, at Carlisle's words remembering to keep preparing and started loading his gun expertly. "Like there's anyone more able than me on hand at this time. The crime rate in this place calls for a few _sacrifices _to be made." His voice was still dripping with bitterness, belying his panic for Bella. Carlisle grimaced, in genuine sympathy this time. "Sam's got some of the best of the pack down with his team… I'm just going to have to hope Mike and Tyler will do with this one. Unless some wandering vigilante decides to show up, which I doubt."

"I'm sure you'll be able to handle it. You always do," the doctor reassured him quietly. He gave Charlie a sad smile. "I'll hold down the fort a bit while you're away, shall I?"

"Thanks, Cullen. But I doubt I'll be gone long – from what I gathered in the distress call, I'm probably going to be arriving after it's too late to catch the culprit, and then it'll just be a matter of telling the boys what to do…"

"Where did you say you were going, again?"

"Seventh and Bells," Charlie murmured as he finished his hurried suit-up and shot a glance at the front of the building, where Mike appeared to be waiting but Tyler was nowhere in sight. He scowled a little.

"Ah. Well, good luck."

Carlisle watched as Charlie walked off, barely acknowledging the doctor's good wishes. He waited until the police officer was far enough away, then began a brisk walk around a corner in the white-tiled halls. Stopping to make sure no one was around, he pulled out a small, unobtrusive black phone.

"….Rose? Em? If you're in the area, you might want to check out Seventh and Bells…"

--------

There were both advantages and disadvantages to being a petite, female, psychic thief. The easy grace that defined each movement, and the ability to disappear into crowds at some times and stand out charmingly at others were certainly pluses, as well as the fact that she could fit in tight spaces. However, Alice was grappling with some of the worse disadvantages of her position at the moment… although with the same amount of practical good cheer with which she handled everything.

It had been a while since she attempted an art robbery – usually she was commissioned to steal weapons or something of the like, given how Forks was a regular Gotham. As such, she had rather forgotten just how heavy some of the valuables could be. And though in a battle she could hold her own, her upper body strength wasn't the reason for that.

She had already made it past most of the security problems, but she had to wonder how she would be able to hoist this thing onto the ropes that would allow her to get it out the window. Skipping lightly back and forth in front of the sculpture (which actually wasn't all that large, but surprisingly dense, like most people) she was carefully thinking through the situation when she encountered disadvantage number two.

Psychic-ness.

Usually she could shake off a vision while she was working, but from the first moment of it she knew that she should probably hear it out. And so, in that not directly suicidal but still altogether too carefree kind of way the she had, she stiffened and allowed the scene to wash before her eyes.

_It took place in a factory of some sort, or at least somewhere where the walls were made up of shiny metal. It was in a hall, but doors led to many sides._

_A woman, or girl… or somewhere in between, with a heart-shaped face and kind eyes, had her arm linked around Alice's small body, holding her up. Although she didn't recognized the face, she recognized the concerned look the woman gave her and the answering smile of reassurance that her future-self gave back. They were friends. _

_Alice couldn't really tell why she was being semi-carried, however, because a gun blocked out most of her body due to foreshortening _(visions had a bad habit of being displayed in the most impression-making way possible, as if fate had something to prove). _The future-Alice noticed it before her friend, getting a knowing but still frightened look on her face (probably due to already having seen this vision in the past and guessing what was coming), and she yelled something to the woman. They both stopped where they stood, the woman whispering a name…Alice couldn't really tell what it was she said, although it looked sort of like… "James"?_

_Another vision flooded into this one. The same woman was on the floor, gasping for breath. A bullet-wound was in her side. It was fatal, and very surprisingly, Edward Mason was standing over her, his eyes wild with panic and helplessness. The woman coughed, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, but she licked it off. She tried to comfort him with a weak movement of her hand to his arm, but he hardly noticed, intent on her face. And…he suddenly leaned forward, and Alice noticed, with a jolt, that there was something wrong with his hand –_

"Hello? I'm sorry, but did you not hear me when I said, 'put your hands up'?"

Alice calmly let the vision subside, fading back into the reality of the art museum. A very familiar pissed-off blonde woman was pointing a gun at her with all of the confidence of the queen of the world. Behind her was the large, beefy form of her partner-in-crime (except not, since they were do-gooders, she supposed), who appeared to be a lot more amused with the situation.

"Oh, hey Rosalie," Alice laughed, smiling, "I didn't see you there for a sec."

"Damnit, do we always have to listen to your attitude? If you try and get cocky with me _one more time _I'm going to blow your _brains _out!"

_At least I have them,_ Alice thought automatically, but decided that it was an unfair assumption. Rosalie Hale certainly had an intellect, but it just starved for air a little due to how much of her brain was focused on her looks. In any case, completely ignoring Rose's fairly good advice, she smiled again.

"You wouldn't have to listen to my attitude so much if you could actually send me to prison for once," she retorted.

Heroes were rather interesting, let it be noted. Despite how purple Rosalie was getting in the face, the color contrasting rather unfortunately with her hair, she only tightened her grip on her gun and didn't follow up on her threat. Hell, she didn't even try and hit Alice, although she looked like she truly wished to.

Emmett, much more composed, stepped closer to Alice as well, his teddy-bear-ish grin simultaneously helping Alice's sense of humor and giving her warning signs of danger. "Looks like she won't have to listen anymore then, eh Al? You've had a long run, but people have better things to do than follow you around." He looked at the statue behind Alice, and his grin widened. "Couldn't you have stolen anything more interesting than a life-sized Barbie doll, by the way?" he asked, referring to the (she had to admit) rather superficial stone female's bizarre connection with her plastic counterpart.

"Couldn't you do anything better than date one?" Alice asked, and both she and Emmett laughed, genuinely enjoying the exchange, despite the difference in their respective positions. Rosalie scowled at her boyfriend, trying to subconsciously urge him to turn back to her side.

"Well Alice," Rosalie spat, drawing the attention back to her, "you heard Emmett. Your time is up. Now put your hands in the air so that you're on your best behaviour for the police."

Alice sighed a little and began to raise her hands when a shot rang out.

Crouched on the sill of the window in the wall behind Alice was a blonde man dressed in black. His gun, which had been pretty close to hitting Emmett before the hero had jumped out of the way, was now trained on Rosalie, and he fired again.

Alice looked up into his serious, emotionless eyes and then laughed cutely.

"My partner-in-crime has arrived, so I suppose I'll see you guys later?"

Emmett struggled to get back on focus and brought his gun up to prevent her from scrambling up the rope, but the other man shot the gun out of his hand. Under the man's protective cover fire, Alice alighted on the window sill with ease.

"Thanks for coming, Jazz," she said. "I guess there's no way to take the statue with us now, is there?"

He just gave her a look before turning his focus back to the job at hand. Both of them disappeared onto the roof, and then presumably into the night.

"Good always wins in the end, by the way!" Emmett yelled after them. Rosalie just pursed her lips and swore.

Reviews would make me so happy! Come on, do a kind deed for your fellow writer/reader! :) (After all, I've got to deal with midterms right now and could use a pick-me-up...)


	4. Introductions

**A/N:. Sorry that I seem to have such a hard time getting to the actual action, but I am (just a little) obsessed with character relationships and so on, so… yeah. It's a habit I have a hard time breaking.**

**On another note, hoorah! The story from this point forward will is beta'd by Relinquished-Time! So yay me!**

**Disclaimer: Miraculously, even though last chapter I didn't, my life took an unexpected plot twist and now I own Twilight. Because that will ever happen.**

Villains come in so many forms in the world. I suppose I should have realized this – if I had, I wouldn't have been caught so off guard. A devil with horns is the same as a devil with the face of an angel. Unfortunately, the second one has much more hypnotic eyes. Golden eyes, to be exact, the only thing inhuman about him except for the bitterness that followed him like fire and brimstone.

"Did you have a plan, or was it just instinct?" he wanted to know.

He was referring to the fact that I had discarded both the rope tying my hands and my blindfold to the ground. I hadn't gotten around to my legs yet, so they were still uncomfortably tied. Now that I could see, I wasn't very sure I wanted to. The room was actually unusually large around me, but nothing worth taking my blindfold off for. Everything was unidentifiable, cold grey. Like a prison cell, or a dungeon.

I couldn't answer him. Call me an idiot, or at least a gal way too drugged up on chloroform or whatever it was, but I was too busy gaping.

I suppose you could say I was already losing it, opening myself to attack. When I looked directly into the flat black of his eyes, it already had the power to cause me to shiver with unease.

He cleared his throat. The sound brought some of my senses back, although I'd sort of expected the cocking of a gun instead of such a human prompt.

"…It's more than an instinct to fight back. It's a lifestyle," I finally answered him. Good grief, was I being cocky? I'd been pretty sure that my ability to do that had vanished with my good sense. My brain sometimes amazes even me. Maybe it works on a different frequency than other people, because I swear that my reactions are just not normal.

And there I was psychoanalyzing myself while he stared at me with those dark eyes.

"You must be a danger magnet," he murmured.

Right on. Still, I couldn't help but clarify.

"Not always," I informed him. "But certainly a surprising amount recently."

The villain crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. Casual, but the angle of his head indicated that he found something puzzling. I watched as he raised his knuckles to his mouth and bit.

I didn't really get why he would talk to me this way, in all honesty. Men of action tend to speak with their guns and leave the rest open to interpretation. He could tell that I had not been intending to sit around like a good little hostage. And scaring me, if I wanted to be truthful with myself, wouldn't have been that hard. I was helpless. Oh, so bloody _helpless. _

Just looking up and seeing him in the room with me had almost made my heart stop functioning.

I figured that the talking was his own creepy style of reprimand. By withholding the punishment, it made me fear it more.

_If that's possible._

_Shut up, me._

"I'm Edward," he told me, breaking the moment of eerie silence. And to my continued shock (again, not that it was pretty hard to shock me at the moment. I was a bundle of frayed nerves) he brought his hand back down to his side and smiled at me. It was a horrible smile, because it actually looked kind of real. Sarcastic, but real.

Another trick of a devil to make himself look like an angel. As if the world wasn't enough of a lie already.

"Oh really? Well you can call me Idiot if you think I'll believe that's your real name," I said bitingly in response, continuing with the introductions from hell. I decided I might as well not play by his rules. After all, he probably already knew my name anyway… and what would he use it for? A gun would carry out his conversation just fine. And if that didn't work, he could always call me 'honey' or 'dearest'.

That was sarcasm, by the way.

His smile stayed, though his eyes were dark. We were probably not going to get along very well, me and Edward. "Perhaps I should inform you before you fill yourself too much with delusional escape-plans," he said lowly and carefully, "I don't need reasons for the things I do, I need results. That's possibly the most important thing you will ever learn about me."

"Oh well great, now I'll just go write your damn biography."

I honestly had no idea where this attitude was coming from. I usually wasn't so coherent with my anger when it was actually okay to start ranting. Now I found myself facing down a villain who could just as easily slit my throat as anything else, and I was spouting off like a total wise-ass. It must be my inability to stay away from danger or something.

When he tilted his head back, I was surprised to see that his irises weren't really black, but gold. The light from the window behind him (it probably led into a hallway in this "dungeon" rather than freedom, if I got my directions correct) caught them in a bizarre manner. The color in his eyes offset the color in his bronze hair stunningly amidst the pale skin of his body. It was almost like he was a statue of marble or a man made of snow, whose warm blood and life only made its appearance through that soft golden color. His frown, however, wasn't the frown of a statue, but the frown of someone who was deliberating what to say next.

I spoke up for him, deciding that while I was on a roll I might as well finish it up. If there was one piece of advice my mother ever gave me, it was give everything you do the fullest effort you've got.

(Of course, she didn't really tell me that so much as force me to learn that by naively creating a bunch of messes I had to clean up, but it was still good advice. Probably.)

"You know something? What you're expecting to happen here? It won't work," I told him, plucking up the strength I could manage.

He glanced at me curiously, maybe even with some surprise. It wasn't exactly the reaction I was planning on getting – the look of a scientist whose predicted experiment took an unexpected turn. His curiosity kind of unnerved me, but I continued, my voice only slightly catching.

"Death doesn't scare me," I said. Who knew if it was a lie or a very deep truth. The point was, it felt very good to spit those words into his angelic face. "You want me to cry like a poor little princess, betray my friends by begging them to give in?" I looked him straight in the eye. "I'm not about to turn traitor. Especially not for death."

Unfortunately, Edward didn't look distressed in the slightest. Contemplative, maybe. He looked even more like he wanted to X-ray my brain for the thoughts behind my words. He took a bit of time before speaking again, but somehow I felt he knew the exact words of his reply a while before he spoke them.

"You know what's the scary thing about death? You can spout the most noble, dignified and prideful speech for hours on end, but 24 hours later the world won't remember a thing about you." He laughed slightly, almost to himself.

…That wasn't just kind of unnerving. That was definitely unnerving. Both his thoughts, and his laugh. I could almost feel the cogs in my brain preparing to replay this scene over and over in my head for the next week while I searched for exactly why someone would say that.

"It's… it's not about recognition," I stuttered. There was something he wasn't saying in those words, however clear they were. I tried to regain my ground. "I'm trying to say, I'm not just your bargaining chip. After all, not all heroes wear capes."

"No, I know that. Just look at Spiderman, although that costume looks a lot better on screen than it would in real life."

He flashed his teeth again, and I raised my eyebrows. I was in too deep to feel like laughing, but I was surprised to see that he had a sense of humor all the same.

"Is that supposed to be a metaphor for all heroes?" I asked flatly. "Because there are quite a few more I could whip out for smart-ass villains like yourself."

"I'll leave it to you to decide then." He bowed, the brief light going out of his eyes. The smirk that he gave me as he left was cold.

…Yet I couldn't help but notice that not only was I unharmed, my arms remained untied, and the blindfold still lay harmlessly on the ground. I almost got my hopes up, until I heard the click of the lock behind him. My luck was never that good.

…_Well. That was unexpected,_ two minds, both light and dark, thought at the same time.

-----

It was always a bit of a disappointment to return empty-handed, but the world robbed one of what they could get all too fast anyway. Alice shrugged to herself, closing her eyes as she leaned into the cool wind. It was all, really, how much one was willing to cheat.

All in all, she was feeling pretty neutral about the day – or, to any one else, rather happy and bubbly. Her perpetual smile, while not threatening to break the sides of her face like it sometimes did, was soft and free.

"It's almost dawn, isn't it, Jazz?" she murmured to him.

It was a pretty obvious statement and one that he didn't bother to confirm, but Alice didn't mind his lack of response. Just like he never let her cheerfulness get on his nerves, she was used to his emotionlessness to the point where she even found it a bit comforting. They had an understanding that probably no one else would ever be able to rival.

Alice brushed her hand lightly through her short, black hair. "Too bad. I would have liked to hit a quick shop or two before sunup…" she said wistfully.

They both paused for a second before doing a running launch off the edge of their current rooftop. In this part of the city, the clustered buildings were relatively low and tight-packed, perfect for their preferred style of travel. Jasper automatically placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, even though both of them were too graceful to need such assistance.

"Thanks," Alice chirped.

"Sure."

Jasper's voice was fairly deep, pleasant except for its lack of tone. His eyes, as they exchanged a quick glance, still had the ability to send pleasant shivers down her spine… despite the fact that they lacked any type of response to the world around them.

They clambered neatly down the edge of one building into quiet darkness – and nearly landed on the person waiting there.

--------

Jacob tried his best to prevent one startled Alice from losing her balance while Jasper, never startled, sent a raised eyebrow his direction.

What was he to have done? It was part of a villainous nature to blend a little too well into the shadows – and, quite frankly, he kind of wasn't expecting them back so early… but it was best not to admit to it being unintentional. After all, unintentional flaws are mistakes, while intentional flaws are quirks. Like the difference between weird and eccentric. That's just the way it goes.

"Good morning, Jacob!" Alice laughed after she recovered, somehow jumping high enough to rap him playfully on the head. Jasper crossed his arms.

"Hi there, guys," Jacob greeted enthusiastically. (Despite business, he was always happy to see his favorite annoying little person and… uh… whatever one could call Jasper. Jazz.) "Listen, just wanted to tell you that The Dark Lord and I will be a bit busy for a while, so you might not want to pop around so often."

"Will we read about it in the newspapers?" Jasper asked, eyes peering out at Jacob from beneath his sweep of blond hair.

"Probably."

The vision from the art museum conveniently thrust itself into the front of Alice's brain. The future could be a bit full of itself, too impatient to be ignored for very long. Alice raised herself gracefully onto her toes and tried to see behind Jacob into the shadows.

"Aw, but I wanted to meet her!" she said mournfully.

"…what?" Jasper questioned bemusedly.

"Can't anyone ever keep a bloody secret from you?" sighed Jacob, getting increasingly uncomfortable at the way the conversation was turning. Geez, it was one thing to boast about your evil plan to your victims just before they felt the brunt of it… not like that was ever a good idea, but sometimes it was irresistible… but discussing it in broad, er, dawnlight? "Look, like I said, we're busy… uh, come back later."

Alice beamed at him.

"Not, you know, sooner. Later."

Alice winked while Jasper looked from one to the other.

"…Okay, just go away, please."

"Aaaaalright then," Alice laughed, bouncing slightly to whatever imaginary tune played in her head as she spun to grab Jasper's arm. He just continued to look at her for explanations. Her smile turned into a smirk, ignoring him for a moment as she looked to Jacob. "But tell Edward congratulations from me anyway, and we have a lot to talk about!"

Now both Jasper and Jacob were in the dark. But that wasn't so uncommon around Alice.

Just go with it, Jacob. It's not like the world makes sense anyway.

Maybe it had something to do with Edward's "interview" with Bella. He still had to find out how that went, after all.

**A/N: You want to review, I can tell.**


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